


The Quest

by KatherineRose2000



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arthurian/Regency, F/M, Misunderstandings, unwilling adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29930976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineRose2000/pseuds/KatherineRose2000
Summary: The sorcerer sends Sir Darcy and Lady Elizabeth on a quest (who knows why, people rarely go on quests anymore). The real test, however, will be to see if they can survive the company.(Reposted as it's own story)
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

“Why _you_ and _I_ on this fool’s errand? It could have been anyone else!” It was practically a cry. Elizabeth paced in a tight circle and threw her hands up. Darcy sat unmoving on a rock, upright and staring at nothing. Elizabeth paid no attention to him as she continued her tirade.

Every word was a new cut. What should be said, Darcy didn’t know. How much of his inner thoughts could be shared with her? It was clear she wasn’t happy with their situation, and then to tell her that it was his fault, that the sorcerer probably took one look at him and an idea had born in the flash of an ancient eye…seemed intolerable. 

Here was the reality: Darcy would not have offered for her before. His traitorous heart would not have won out against duty. So he told himself each day and each night, all while his feet slept at Netherfield and walked toward Longbourn by day. The two seemed at a standstill. Perhaps that was what the sorcerer saw. 

Darcy was surprised, at first obviously, and then terribly relieved when they had found themselves transported into this strange field in the middle of nowhere. Love and duty had combined. A higher power decided for him. In that moment he turned toward Elizabeth, hope and expectation and the surety of happiness- 

She looked completely devastated. A moment after, miserable, and a moment after that, furious. 

Darcy realized then, too, that Elizabeth had never shown her anger before him until now. Somehow the display of it, the unguardedness of temper revealed what he had missed all along; that she was calculatedly at ease around him, that she did not want him like he had taken it for granted that she did. Every previous, thinly veiled flash of temper had been hidden by an arch smile and dancing eyes. Only too late had he understood what was dancing in them. She hated him. She loathed him.

He had been a fool.

And he was tired. Utterly exhausted. 

“We should move on before nightfall,” was all he said to her. This seemed to only enrage her more. “I do not know what you would have me do, Lady Elizabeth. I too have responsibilities that are falling under neglect as we stand here.”

Her jaw clenched for a long moment and then relaxed. She nodded. “Of course. I apologize.” Darcy stood and straightened, collected the small things about his person, and settled his sword against his side. They set off. 

*

The landscape was green and yet barren, strangely quiet with only eerie sounds of the wind whistling across the thin grass to interrupt the imprints of their steps. Elizabeth had only a thin gown on when the transportation had taken place. It would be necessary to find an inn for the night and proper traveling garments to weather the bite of spring.

Despite the mundane appearance of lightly sloping hills, neither of them were under the illusion that this would be a simple walk back to the village of Merytown. Quests were not a leisurely hike; they were filled with tasks and tribulations — or, at least that was what all of the books said. No one really went on quests anymore. In any case it would be necessary not to tarry too long in one place lest one of those tests befall them suddenly. The biggest problem they faced, of course, was that the mission of said quest had not been specified. They were, essentially, on a journey with an unforeseeable end. Quests sometimes took years. Only once the result had been achieved would the portal reappear to return you, otherwise you would have to abandon and travel unfulfilled through what human means you could manage. It could be risky, some lore even cited the Curse of the Unfulfilled. 

Elizabeth did not mind that at all.

For Darcy it was completely different. Of course there was immense inconvenience, but he could now admit to himself that before today he would have gladly walked, with a perfectly valid excuse, for hours on a cold road with Elizabeth Bennet. Having the pleasure of her undivided attention and time, all while shutting out the whole world and all the reality of his many obligations with it. Reynolds would hold down Pemberley while he was away, and Georgiana didn’t expect him for at least another three month. As long as Wickham didn’t stir up anymore trouble all would be well until he returned.

He turned suddenly and observed Elizabeth shivering lightly. Out of concern more than anything, he thus began: “I have been contemplating the purpose of this quest.”

Her gaze cleared and lifted. They hadn’t spoken in above an hour. 

“Sir Lucas’ daughter, Lady Charlotte.“

Her interest had been piqued. “Yes, Charlotte?”

“I believe she was recently bound in matrimony to your cousin, Mr. Collins, and that they have settled on my aunt’s estate in the parsonage house. I understand that he extended his...courtesy, to you, before he moved onto a more willing candidate.”

He let the inference linger and a light entered her eyes. “You don’t think—?” 

“No. I confess I do not believe him capable of such mischief. Or if he was, then at least he had no intention of involving myself; yet, I have not come to a more plausible object of conjecture. Perhaps you have some inkling?” Deception of any kind was his abhorrence, but he had convinced himself that her best guess was, without complete confirmation, just as good as his.

Elizabeth hesitated for too long. “I have been considering...”

“Any possible idea may be of use.” 

She blushed heavily. “I have been thinking that perhaps...my mother...”

Darcy understood. Mrs. Bennet was set on matchmaking. She had caught Bingley in her web and now he was betrothed to the fair Jane. Darcy thought ironically that he and Mrs. Bennet’s interests were now more similar than not. And he hoped, perversely, that it was she who set this off. It would save him much responsibility for this mess.

“Yes,” he said delicately, aware of her rightful mortification, “but sorcerers have their own mysterious purposes for what they set into action.” She nodded and they again fell silent. 

It was true; sorcerers were not generally just for sale. The Old One of the Merytown village was eccentric, but in no need of bribery. If he had taken some price it was because it amused him, or he took some pleasure in whatever the payment was.

It was known that the sorcerer loved strawberry jam. Elizabeth’s mother had a store of excellent strawberry jam. 

Whether or not her mother had been the culprit, Elizabeth observed to herself, the goal had been achieved. She and Sir Darcy would marry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I previously posted a rough draft of this for a split second, but took it down unsatisfied. Instead I've redrafted a bit (I don't have a beta reader, so it's all me...) and am still working on the ending. Should be about 7 chapters, but maybe a little longer.
> 
> Wish me luck, and drop me a comment or suggestion!


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

“I have been contemplating something my father once spoke of,” Elizabeth began the next morning as they emerged from the small roadside cottage. Sir Darcy had paid for their rooms by way of a few coins on his person, and arranged for the elderly couple to give her a thick fur lined cloak.

“He used to read to me out of the book of lore to amuse himself. None of my sisters were interested, but I liked to humor him. It is said that an ancient ruin lay at Oakham Mount, from the times of Arthur.”

“And you believe this could be the key to our predicament,” he asked sardonically. 

“It is the only relic in all of Hertfordshire,” she responded challengingly, with that gleam he had once so basked in. “It seems the only present point of reference to the magical forces.”

He nodded shortly and looked away. It had previously been his impression that their verbal sparring had been to the satisfaction of both.

“It appears to me, Sir Darcy,” Elizabeth continued in a lighter voice after a few moments, “that we have few options presently. It would not hurt to have an idea to start with.”

Her cheerfulness. Nothing was as he thought before.

“Yes,” he agreed coldly, “only we do not know where we are currently, or what direction, because neither of us speak French.”

She silently grit her teeth. They continued on without another word. 

*

Elizabeth looked over at the stoic man next to her. The chill morning sun brought out the shadows and lines of his face, a contrast which only served to highlight his severity of countenance. 

She was surveying, she thought to herself, her future husband. He was undeniably handsome and sought after, but all this could not overcome the feeling of contempt she held him in for his actions, nor could she laugh away her earnest desire for respect and love in the marital state. She was determined to dislike him.

Once again she cursed the Old One, the eccentric sorcerer who did not have wits enough to explain the purpose of the quest. Did it even fulfill the requisites of a quest if it was purposeless? The sorcerer had said that it _was_ a quest, right before he pushed them through a diaphanous blue portal. Such magic, it was generally agreed upon, was used only for Purposes of Old, or for the greater good. It was practically sorcerer law; you could have your powers revoked if there was suspicion of misuse.

If only, Elizabeth lamented, Sir Darcy hadn’t been in the market with her that day. Why had he accompanied her? It could only be assumed it was for Bingley that he did so, to give him more time with Jane. But hadn’t he been set against the match?

If only he hadn’t followed her into that stall to carry her fruits for her! But he had, and now the man who she had sworn against, the man who had most certainly and publicly disavowed any inclination for her, would be bound to her for the rest of her livelong days.

She wondered at what Jane would say when she returned. _If she returned._ No doubt it would utterly please her, if only she knew Elizabeth was happy; it would answer every wish of her heart to see Bingley’s closest friend and her sister settled together so that none of them ever need be parted. But Jane didn’t know that Sir Darcy had tried to separate her from her betrothed, and had only relented when Bingley made it clear he would not yield. She never would know, now. 

“Over here,” her tall companion directed presently to a small stream. They stopped and refreshed themselves.

Darcy bent to catch water in his hands, and even in this he appeared unreasonably the gentleman; but Elizabeth knew what he had done to Wickham - what his pride had done. It was difficult to know life could be so unfairly on the side of those who did not deserve it. He had everything — land, power, appearance, connections, and equally as fortunate friends. Wickham had none of these comforts. 

A traveler suddenly came upon them to refresh his horse at the stream. Clearly the man was French, and as Sir Darcy had pointed out, neither of them spoke the language. Elizabeth called out to him anyway. 

Darcy put out a cautious arm to heed her, but she whispered heatedly, “We must have a guide, Sir Darcy. Let us see if the man may be of use.” He grunted, but let her hail the lone wanderer and his sad steed over. 

The man was about thirty, very dirty and missing a few teeth. He grinned at her and she felt Sir Darcy shift beside her. 

“Excuse me, but do you speak any English?” 

“ _English?”_ the man said, shaking his head in disgust. Darcy sighed. Elizabeth thought a moment and pressed on. “We are looking for a sea port to bring us back to England. Is Calais near? Calais?” 

“ _Calais!”_ He exclaimed, nodding. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of blessed relief. He nodded again and pointed directly in front of them, and she laughed.

The man turned critically to Sir Darcy and looked on their differing heights as if it were a personal affront. In truth, Sir Darcy was tall even in England, taller even than Bingley, who was considered a tall man himself.

It was very funny, that two so very different beings could hold the same sour expression.

The very dirty gentleman turned back to Elizabeth. He reached out for her hand, but Darcy shot out and grabbed his arm. The man exclaimed and spat until he shook himself free, and then took her hand and kissed the back of it. Her companion growled. “I do not like this.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted, “but who knows when another such will stumble upon us.”

The man turned back to Darcy, more defiant than ever before, and sniffed the air. 

“Calais?” Elizabeth reminded him encouragingly. 

He opened his palm to Darcy in clear demand. “Calais.”

Elizabeth stifled her laugh.

Darcy looked contemptuously down at his creditor and reluctantly dug out a coin from the small bag stored secretly in the material of his clothes. No doubt there was only enough in it for a day at the market. 

The man examined the coin critically, making a show of biting it, then extended his hand to Elizabeth and introduced himself as Jean. Sir Darcy did not seem to appreciate this informality, but followed nonetheless as Jean led his mule in front of them. 

*

They arrived at a small eroding farm a half day’s journey away, exhausted, although neither owned it. Darcy had seen Elizabeth rambling about the countryside enough. He knew she was used to walking a great deal, and said a silent prayer of thanks for it.

Jean’s rotund wife fed them hearty bowls of stew and slices of fresh coarse bread, and Elizabeth had never relished food so much in her life. After dinner Darcy fully expected to be taken to two separate rooms, until he belatedly realized there was no more of the house to see. Jean saw his eyes darting around and pointed to the barn with a motion at them. When Darcy hesitated he smiled and made a gesture as if to say Elizabeth should stay and he should go to the barn.

Well, that would not do.

Guest looked with challenge upon host. Host looked back between the couple in clear amusement. “You are, aren’t you? Or maybe not,” he seemed to say.

That was it. Darcy stood stiffly and offered Elizabeth his arm, and lead her to their unfortunate abode past the impudent farmer. 

“I apologize, Lady Elizabeth. I shall not bother you,” he bowed formally when they were inside. 

Elizabeth could only nod and watch as he made his bed of hay in the farthest corner, the unhappy thought in her mind that the impropriety hardly mattered now. 

Darcy snuffed the lamp they had been given, and both commenced into much needed sleep.

*

Elizabeth awoke in the middle of the night to a scream. 

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

Nothing could be distinguished in the vast shadows except the sounds of scuffling. Elizabeth shifted until the moonlight shone through the small window onto the edge of Sir Darcy’s sword - held at point to Jean and his wife.

“They were attempting to loot,” he told her coldly. 

Jean exclaimed at this but Darcy silenced him with an imposing shift of his footing. Elizabeth moved closer until she could see their faces.

“Grab the knife,” he instructed her quietly, his eyes fixed on the intruders, and she moved to let Jean pass her the small dagger he held in his trembling fist. “Now tie them please, if you would. There’s a rope over there, on the wall.” 

She tied them without any mishap and soon the couple were sitting back to back on the barn floor squabbling to themselves.

“What is to be done now? Do we leave them here?”

“Now,” Darcy said wearily, “I suggest we go inside.”

Elizabeth smiled a little weakly and nodded. 

When they made their way into the pitiable house Darcy struck up a lantern from the burning coals in the hearth and placed it on the table. He sat heavily. “I apologize, Lady Elizabeth.”

She looked at him incredulously. “What have you to apologize for, Sir? It is not your fault we sit here. Indeed, I am most grateful for your protection,” she told him honestly.

He looked at her strangely. “Still, a gentleman’s daughter should not have to face such conditions.”

“You are a gentleman facing such conditions, and yet I hear no complaint from you.” she said. A small curve to the side of his mouth made him look unusually pleasant, but the expression quickly returned to impenetrable. 

_Confusing, confusing man._

*

In the morning there was the question of whether or not to take Jean’s horse. 

“One horse for a whole farm!”

“Yes,” Sir Darcy replied gravely, “but he has not treated us with such respect.” 

Elizabeth nodded, glad that he had come to the same conclusion that she had, in fact, come to herself. Then the business of the unsavory couple was at hand; they untied them and blocked the barn with sacks of feed to forestall their escape. 

“If only we could be sure of the direction in which we traveled,” Elizabeth said, mostly to herself when they were miles away.

Darcy silently agreed, but it would do no good to show it. There was simply no making sense of the situation they were in — only Elizabeth falling in love with him would hasten their return, he was almost certain, and he had no intention of charming her into it in the dishonest way some men did. She would either love him or not. There was nothing he could do.

As of this moment his only priority was to return her with as little preamble as possible to her family. Once she was there another hasty marriage could be arranged if that was what she wished, and he could then stop tormenting himself and go back to Pemberley to seek solace in Georgiana’s quiet company. 

“Look!” 

He turned and saw a group in the far distance, settled around a fire. Riotous laughter was faint but definite; soldiers, no doubt. Only about five.

Elizabeth watched as Darcy surveyed them grimly. He glanced to the right and studied the boughs and brush of the landscape. “We will head this way instead.” 

They set off around them into harsher terrain. The old mule was having a harder time keeping pace. “Would it have been so bad to come upon them?” Elizabeth asked; she was not a fool, she knew what untoward danger it would have been. A young woman could inspire unwanted curiosity. But she dared to know his thoughts for once.

“I do not trust many soldiers,” Darcy said shortly. “At least not while their commanding officers are gone.”

Elizabeth remembered Darcy’s cousin Fitzwilliam was in the service. She wondered but did not ask.

They proceeded for some hours until Elizabeth caught her foot on a branch and stumbled. Darcy ignored her protests and placed her on the mule. Her eyes were almost shut by the time they found a light flickering in a window. Darcy tied the mule to a bush some ways away before motioning her silent and approaching the door. 

Elizabeth watched as the door flung open with the smell of food and a bright flushed face peeked out. She went limp from relief. 

Darcy chatted in a broken, unintelligible way with the young woman before he came to retrieve her. They were ushered in warmly and Elizabeth was sat down by the fire and fussed over. Darcy smiled a little. “She seems to be the wife of a local official.”

The young woman certainly was an attentive host; she blushed dreadfully any time Darcy looked at her. Apparently her husband was not so fine to look at.

Elizabeth, laughter in her eyes, smiled at him as the lady continued to fuss; it was certainly not for her sake. Darcy shook his head at her teasing, faint color pervading his cheeks as he was shyly offered refreshment.

They ate cheerfully by the fire, at least partially revived. In her good humor Elizabeth chatted with her nearest object, and Darcy obliged her by smiling at her witticisms. Sir Darcy could be, Elizabeth realized to her shock, sufficient company when they were not in the confines of great halls. It puzzled her exceedingly, all these different accounts of him.

This time there were separate rooms to be had, and the lady of the house would not hear of being paid. She even set out a lovely dress for Elizabeth, who had a feeling if Darcy were not so noble looking she would have been spared this particular civility; she knew she did not look the part of his lady. He had made that abundantly clear to begin with. But the gown was warm, and Elizabeth would not dwell too long on this frowning thought. She lay on her feather bed that night and drifted off to sleep, dreaming so vividly that she was home.

*

She was awoken, again, in the middle of the night.

There was fire outside of the windows, voices and shouting. Sir Darcy burst into her room with unmistakable urgency. “Hurry.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the house just as the front entry was muscled open. 

Villagers. Angry villagers. 

They ran out of the back door into the night as the sounds of voices and shouting rang behind them. Darcy held her rigidly to his side, his long strides never abating until they were far enough away that the torches looked more like specks.

“You don’t think...” Elizabeth said in horror, thinking of the pretty young woman of the house. “It wasn’t because of us?”

“No,” he said quietly, staring off into the distance. “I believe the local peasantry had been planning this for some time. We seem merely to be caught in the thick of it.”

She hoped dreadfully that he was right, even if he was only trying to spare her. 

They sat in the field closely for hours, shivering and watching the light emanating from the torches, contemplating what horrors could drive human beings to such an act. It was nearly dawn before the flames left.

They made their way to the remains of the house cautiously. Elizabeth’s hand flew over her mouth as she came upon the young woman. Darcy came up behind her and turned her away. “Go to the barn,” he commanded. 

She sat with the door open and watched him dig the grave as a grey downpour began. 

When the work was done he came in and sunk to the floor.

“Why?” Elizabeth whispered. “These are not trials of magic - this is human cruelty.”

She was surprised Darcy had even heard her over the rain beating steadily on the patchy roofing. His head was tipped back against the wall and his eyes were closed. He said tiredly, “It was I.” 

“What?”

“It is because of me that the Sorcerer sent us here. There is no quest, Elizabeth. He saw that I loved you.” 

Elizabeth started, colored, doubted and was silent.

His eyes opened to pierce her. “I have loved you almost from our second acquaintance. The sorcerer saw into my soul, that I would not offer for you; your connexions, the total want of propriety in your family, your scheming mother- Everything forbade it. So it pleased him to send us here where my duty and desire would align.”

“What of my desires!” Elizabeth cried, roused to resentment.

“I understand this is not what you wish,” Darcy said coldly.

“No indeed! You tell me in the same sentence that you feel for me, and then that everything forbade such a consideration. Since the day I met you you have shown nothing but disapprobation towards me. How could the Sorcerer not see that I would never willingly accept the man who tried to separate my sister from Sir Bingley - the man who had dealt such a blow to Mr. Wickham? No, there must be another reason for this!”

At the mention of Wickham’s name he went white. “You take a keen interest in that man.”

“Who that knows of his misfortune cannot!”

Darcy laughed cruelly. Of course — of course this was Wickham. Of course he had poisoned her against him. 

Elizabeth waited.

He turned away from her. “His misfortunes indeed! You do not know of what you speak. George Wickham...” Darcy paused, “is a seducer, amongst other foul charges. 

Now it was her turn to turn white. “How do you know.”

He hesitated, anger and reluctance warring across his countenance.“Because he took in my sister, Georgiana, when she was but fifteen.”

_No. It couldn’t be._

Elizabeth thought of Lydia. Kitty. Yes, Wickham’s behavior toward herself must now look quite different. She was sensible enough to grasp onto the reality of it quickly.

“I apologize,” she whispered.

Darcy clenched his eyes shut bitterly. “This is my fault. I...” He looked at her with such despair. He shut them again. 

They stayed silent. The rain, the air so thick it felt like a mire.

They fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so we come to a point! We'll see how they handle the fallout soon...

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if anyone is confused - I took down An Excellent Library and posted the stories individually. I felt they were too different to be lumped together :/


End file.
